Oh, I bid farewell to the port and the land
and I paddle away from brave England's white sands.
To search for my long ago forgotten friends
to search for the place I hear all sailors end.

As the souls of the dead fill the space of my mind
I'll search without sleeping 'til peace I can find
I fear not the weather, I fear not the sea
I remember the fallen, do they think of me?
When their bones in the ocean forever will be.

Plot a course to the night, to a place I once knew
To a place where my hope died, along with my crew.
So I swallow my grief and face life's final test
to find promise of peace and the solace of rest.

As the souls of the dead fill the space of my ears
Their laughter like children, their beckoning cheers
My heart longs to join them, sing songs of the sea
I remember the fallen, do they think of me?
When their bones in the ocean forever will be

When at last before my ghostly shipmates I stand
I shed a small tear for my home upon land.
Though their eyes speak of deaths filled with struggle and strife
their smiles, below, say I don't owe them my life.

As the souls of the dead fill the space of my eyes
and my boat listed over and tried to capsize
I'm this far from drowning, this far from the sea
I remember the living, do they think of me?
When my bones in the ocean forever will be

Now that I'm staring down at the darkest abyss
I'm not sure what I want, but I don't think it's this.
As my comrades call to stand fast and forge on
I make sail for the dawn 'til the darkness has gone.

As the souls of the dead live fore'er in my mind
as I live all the years that they left me behind
I'll stay on the shore but still gaze at the sea
I remember the fallen and they think of me
For our souls in the ocean together will be

I remember the fallen and they think of me
for our souls in the ocean together will be

To the Spanish Main we are bound away,
Ch: Slav Ho!
To the Spanish Main we are bound away,
Ch: Slav Ho!
We're sailing away in the early day,
Where the swift bonitos and dolphins play!
Ch: Slav Ho! Slavita, vraimen-ti-go slee-ga. Slav Ho!

Oh, in eighteen hundred and sixty one,
The Yankee war had just begun,
I put my corduroy breeches on,
Ch: To work upon the rail way,
the railway, I'm weary of the railway,
Oh, poor Paddy works on the railway!

Oh, in eighteen hundred and sixty-two,
My corduroy breeches they were new;
I took my pick with a navvy's crew,
To work upon the railway.

Oh, in eighteen hundred and sixty-three,
I sailed away beyond the sea;
I sailed away to Amerikee,
To work upon the railway.

Oh, in eighteen hundred and sixty-four,
I landed on the American shore;
I had a pickaxe and nothing more,
To work upon the railway.